Vulkun
by skyflower51
Summary: Why is Jenassa's hirer so silent and cold? Why is he so reluctant to answer the Greybeards' call from High Hrothgar? And what does he have against that maidservant in the Bannered Mare? When two strangers come to Whiterun searching for a Redguard woman, Jenassa begins to make surprising discoveries about the Dragonborn – and maybe a few about herself.
1. Chapter One

**I have four Dragonborns in Skyrim, though I've only really written about my first, J'shana. A while back I decided to write a series of short stories featuring each of the three who I don't write about much. This is the second of that series. It was going to be a oneshot, but it's turning out to be a two or three chapter story.**

**I'll be writing this in between chapters of my current project, Dragonheart. I know I shouldn't work on two stories at once, but this one will be quite short, and when the idea for it came into my head it was so perfect that I just had to write it.**

**The title will be explained in the last chapter. :)**

* * *

VULKUN

Over the years she'd been a mercenary, Jenassa had seen many clients come and go. Some stayed for only a few days before discharging her, others kept her in their service for months. A year was the longest she'd ever served a single hirer, but despite all they'd been through side by side, despite every dungeon they'd trawled through, every road they'd travelled, every wolf and bandit and Draugr they'd slain, he'd moved on in the end, just like all the others.

Nobody ever stayed for long. Some reached the end of the contract they'd made with her and chose not to lengthen it. From time to time, she'd simply take her leave, if they asked her to do something too dangerous, or if she merely disliked them. Others demanded that she leave them, though that was rarer, and only really happened if they'd had a serious falling out. And occasionally, every once in a while, Jenassa would fail in her duty. An arrow would come out of nowhere, a sabre cat would leap from the shadows, a bandit would turn out to be not so dead after all. It was no great hardship to lose a client, especially not when Jenassa could go through their pockets afterwards. Still, she preferred for it not to happen. Mercenaries were supposed to protect those that hired them, and Jenassa took her occupation seriously.

What with the fact that Jenassa was a slow-aging Dunmer, and with all the many ways she and her employers could part company, it was unsurprising that she'd seen so many. And no two had ever been the same. Her first client had been one of her own kind, a quick-witted archer who'd wanted a close-quarters fighter to accompany him on a mission into some Dwarven ruin. Other Dark Elves were the most likely to hire her, she'd found, though there'd been plenty of others. She'd followed several Orcs, though they'd never remained together for long – the Orsimer were almost entirely the kind of fighters who charged headlong into battle, while Jenassa preferred to strike from the shadows, and it was hard for two so different to work together for any long amount of time.

She'd served under humans of all four races, though Nords were less common, despite Skyrim being their homeland. She guessed it was something to do with the mistrust between their species, There had been High Elves, mostly mages, and Wood Elves, mostly archers, and even a few Khajiit. For some weeks she'd helped protect a pair of Khajiit, a brother and sister, as they travelled across Skyrim searching for their relatives in a trading caravan. And there'd been a single Argonian, several years ago, though she'd only kept Jenassa in her service for a couple of days.

They'd all been different. Warriors, thieves, assassins, archers and mages. Men, elves and beastfolk. Some had been her friends, others simply the ticket to her next meal. In their own ways, all of them had been strange. But this current client, who sat beside her now, his eyes fixed on the pavement, his hands clasped in front of him, his head bowed… he was perhaps the strangest yet.

It was in the Drunken Huntsman that she'd met him. Jenassa much preferred lodging in this tavern than the Bannered Mare – it was quieter, for a start, and the fact that it was also a weapons shop made her feel somewhat at home. It also meant that the customers were often hunters or fighters, which meant that they were more likely to be in need of a sellsword than most of the people who frequented the Bannered Mare. Jenassa's current client had been no exception.

It was perhaps half an hour after sundown when the door was pushed open and a man strode inside, a gust of icy wind following him in. He turned and quickly rammed the door shut again before making his way over to the counter. Jenassa found her eyes drawn to him immediately. He was a Redguard, tall and muscular, wearing a curious, rather patchwork assortment of armour. The cuirass he was wearing, for example, was quilted in the fashion distinctive to Stomcloak soldiers, yet over the top he wore a brown jerkin of a style that Jenassa had only ever seen on Imperial infantry. His boots were thick, fur-lined ones, yet his bracers were thin, studded leather. Completing the odd set of apparel was what looked like one of the dark blue sashes that Stormcloak warriors usually wore, which the Redguard had wrapped around his head in such a way that it formed a sort of hood. At the man's belt hung an Imperial style sword, and a small steel dagger. None of the items he was wearing or carrying looked as if it had been made for him – the jerkin was too small, and the cuirass too long.

Jenassa stared blankly at the stranger for a few seconds, trying to work out what could possibly have possessed him to dress himself in this fashion. The only idea she could think of was that he'd scavenged whatever he could find from the bodies left over from a clash between the Imperials and Stormcloaks – but if he wanted armour, couldn't he have found a more… _conventional _method of obtaining it?

The Redguard reached the counter and placed his hands upon it – even from a distance Jenassa could see that they were calloused, probably from years of handling a weapon. He said nothing, waiting for Elrindir to notice him and hurry over before speaking.

'A bed,' he said, in a voice so low that even Jenassa, whose elven ears usually could pick up the slightest sound, had to struggle to make out the words. 'How much?'

'Ten Septims for the night,' Elrindir replied.

The man nodded and reached into a small leather pouch at his waist, withdrawing a handful of coins. He counted through them in a slow, deliberate manner, before placing ten on the counter. Elrindir scooped them up. 'Anything else? Are you in need of weapons, or a meal?'

The Redguard gazed at the remaining gold he was holding for a moment, his brow furrowed, then pointed to the pot of stew simmering over the hearth. 'How much?' he said again.

It was something of a tradition in the Huntsman that there would always be a stew of some sort available. Jenassa had taken some for her evening meal; tonight it was venison from a deer that according to Elrindir had been running free over the plains that morning.

'Eight for a share, friend.'

Coins exchanged hands, and Elrindir reached behind the counter to bring out a small wooden bowl and spoon. The stranger nodded to him and approached the stew pot. He stared at it for a second, almost as if he was surprised to see food in front of him, then ladled a portion into his bowl and sat down, cross-legged, beside the fire. He took his time swallowing his first mouthful, seemingly savouring the taste, then shovelled down the rest as purposefully as if he were a blacksmith stoking a furnace. Jenassa watched with amusement. It looked as if he hadn't eaten for a while. By the time he set his bowl aside, it was completely spotless.

Seeing as a mug of ale was the only other thing she had to entertain herself with, Jenassa found herself watching the Redguard with interest as he pulled a map from inside his jacket and spread it out on the floor in front of him. It appeared to be a map of Skyrim, with the major roads and settlements marked upon it. A wonky cross had been scrawled a short distance away from Riverwood, and the stranger was tracing a path from Whiterun to the mark with his finger.

Jenassa's curiosity overcame her. 'Looking for somewhere?'

The Redguard's head slowly turned towards her, and for the first time, Jenassa saw his face. His skin was dark tawny, his eyes very deep brown, his hair jet black and – from what she could see of it beneath his hood – cut quite short. A line of white warpaint began between his eyebrows and stretched partway down his nose before branching out into two lines that travelled below his eyes, with two more streaks below them. A thin pink scar cut through the paint marks on his left cheek.

His eyes locked onto hers for a moment, unblinking and unflinching, and Jenassa felt a strange feeling come over her, as if the Redguard was looking right inside her, uncovering every secret she had ever kept. Before she could grow uneasy, though, he turned his head away and pointed at the cross marked on his map.

Jenassa decided to take this as an invitation to leave her corner and move a little closer. The words 'Bleak Falls Barrow' were scribbled beside the cross in tiny, perfectly formed letters.

'The Nordic tomb?' Jenassa asked. 'What do you want with that place?'

'Fetch something,' the Redguard replied, without looking at her.

After running his answer through her mind for a while, Jenassa decided he'd meant that he needed to fetch something. 'What sort of something?'

'Stone. For the Jarl.'

Jenassa had no idea what the Jarl might want with a stone, but she had a feeling that the man wouldn't be wasting his time in a Nord burial site if it wasn't important. She frowned. He didn't look up to trawling through that kind of ruin. She didn't doubt that he could use his weapons, but his patchwork armour wouldn't provide him with all that much protection. 'Have you ever been to a Nordic ruin before?'

He shook his head.

'And you're going alone?' Jenassa couldn't keep the incredulity out of her voice.

The Redguard carefully folded his map and replaced it inside his tunic. 'Dangerous?'

Again, Jenassa had to work for a moment to work out what he meant. 'Of course they're dangerous. Traps of every kind littered all over the place, nothing to eat, nothing to drink, cold as Winterhold in Evening Star. And don't get me started on the Draugr.'

'Draugr?' the man repeated, and this time he looked at her as he said it.

'Ancient Nords cursed with undeath.' Elrindir, overhearing their conversation, called over from behind the counter. 'Foul creatures. I've never seen one myself, but I've heard stories, and none of them are pleasant. Nord tombs are swarming with them. It wouldn't be wise to go alone.'

The Redguard raised and lowered his shoulders in a slow shrug. 'No choice.'

Jenassa felt a spark of excitement kindle inside her. If this man was going to Bleak Falls Barrow, and if he had no one to accompany him… perhaps he might be in need of a skilled warrior like her. It was mind-numbingly boring, sitting in the Huntsman waiting to be hired. Now, at last, she had a prospective customer.

Before she could voice her idea, Elrindir beat her to it. 'There are plenty of mercenaries who'd be willing to go with you. Jenassa here, for instance.'

One of the stranger's eyebrows lifted a fraction, but he said nothing.

Jenassa decided it was time to sell herself a little. 'I have delved into many a Nordic ruin before, and I know how to get out of them alive. I know how to defend myself against any foe those caverns might hold. I know how to kill them. Death is my art, and like all artists, I seek a patron. For a mere handful of gold, I will follow you into any danger.'

The Redguard's expression did not change; it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. 'How do you fight?'

It was the longest speech she'd heard from him so far. Jenassa found herself tempted to say, 'With a sword,' but something told her it wouldn't be appreciated. 'I fight from the shadows, so that I see my enemies long before they see me. I'm not one to charge recklessly into combat. The first thing my foes know about my presence is my sword in their throat.'

'And she's trustworthy.' Elrindir spoke up, making the stranger turn his head towards him. 'I've seen plenty of people hire her and set out on some quest with her, and they've all come back.'

Jenassa shot the Bosmer a quick smile. It was good of him to help her find clients – she supposed it was his way of thanking her for consistently lodging in his inn, rather than in the Bannered Mare.

The Redguard rose to his feet and looked at Jenassa carefully. 'How much?'

'Well, an expedition to Bleak Falls Barrow should take three days at the most. How about two hundred Septims?'

The man shook his head. 'Not enough.'

Jenassa was momentarily thrown, wondering if he was saying that she wasn't charging enough, then worked out that he didn't have enough money. She wasn't surprised. Still, there were ways around that. 'Alternatively,' she said quickly, before he could turn away, 'In the Barrow, you could allow me to take whatever valuables might be inside until my fee has been paid.'

He tilted his head on one side slightly, his brow creased. Then he gave a single nod.

'We leave at dawn,' he said, and held out his hand.

Jenassa took it. 'Name's Jenassa, in case you didn't catch it.'

He stared for a second. Then he said, 'Ozan.'

They shook hands, and the deal was struck.

* * *

The mission to Bleak Falls Barrow had not taken as long as Jenassa had predicted, but it had been long enough for her to learn several things about her employer.

The first thing she realised was that he hated speaking. He didn't seem to have a problem with being spoken to, but every time he said anything, Jenassa was given the impression that he was running the sentence through his head to make sure it contained as few words as possible. If he could answer a question using only body language, he would. And he hardly ever initiated a conversation – in all the time they spent in the Barrow, the only things he said to Jenassa without her speaking to him first were, 'Stop,' 'Wait,' and, 'Behind you!' He very seldom raised his voice, and his speech was almost always as emotionless as his face.

She also soon learned that he was a powerful warrior. His fighting style was almost identical to Jenassa's. Like her, he preferred to walk in the shadows, advancing on his enemies from behind, cutting them down before they saw him. But when he was forced to engage in open combat, he fought with a vicious, smooth efficiency that was somewhat frightening. His sword would effortlessly block aside the blows the Draugr sent his way, while his dagger searched for openings, usually finding them quickly. His was a way of fighting designed to cut down the enemy as fast as possible. He took no risks, and he showed no mercy.

And yet, despite his cold exterior and his ruthless killing, Ozan genuinely seemed to want Jenassa there. If he found a gemstone or handful of gold on the body of a fallen Draugr, he would pass it to her instantly. If they found themselves unsure of where to go, and she asked, 'Which way now?' his reply was always, 'What do you think?' And if she found herself backed into a corner by the Draugr, he would be there to help in seconds.

He had been a puzzle from the start. And after they had found the stone – it was called the Dragonstone, she learned, and it was a map of dragon burial sites – and returned it to Whiterun, he only became more confusing. The gold they had found in the tomb hadn't been quite enough to pay Jenassa's fee, so she had accompanied him to deliver the stone, in case he was given a reward that would allow him to pay the rest. And then a guard had arrived, panting something about a dragon attacking the watchtower, and the Jarl had turned to Ozan, saying that he had 'the most experience with dragons,' and that he should go with the men to fight the beast.

Before she could question how exactly her hirer had experience with dragons, he was nodding. He shot a glance at Jenassa, his gaze questioning, and she knew that here and now she had a choice. He still owed her twenty or so Septims, but she could leave now easily, and let him tackle the dragon alone. But something made her stay and say that she would help him. Perhaps it was because she didn't want to pass up a chance to see a real, live dragon, or maybe she simply wanted to learn a little bit more about her mysterious client.

Whatever the case, she had gone with him, and soon the dragon had been lying dead on the ground. Ozan had been the one to down the beast, leaping onto its head and driving his sword down between its eyes. Jenassa had just been about to remark to Irileth how that had been a lot simpler than she'd anticipated when… _something_ had happened. She wasn't sure exactly what it was, but what it looked like was that every part of the dragon except for its bones had turned into fire. And the fire had turned into light. And the light had formed a glowing river in the air, and flowed forwards - into Ozan. And he had stood as if frozen, his brown eyes wide, as every last speck of the light was sucked inside his body and disappeared from view.

There had been a lot of confusion after that, and the guards had seemed extremely excited, and the word 'Dragonborn' had been thrown about rather freely. And a few minutes later an echoing voice – or maybe several voices – had thundered down from the clouds. '_DOVAHKIIN!'_

It wasn't for about half an hour later than anybody seemed to want to leave Ozan alone. First the guards had started asking him to shout, which was not exactly something natural for Ozan, though it turned out this was some special kind of shouting in the dragon language – and Ozan had done it, all right, knocking the guards backwards with nothing but a bellowed word. And then the Jarl had started lecturing him, telling him how he was meant to climb the Throat of the World and talk to some people called Greybeards. Jenassa couldn't help but wonder what that particular group would do if a woman chose to join them – or indeed anyone who didn't have a beard, let alone a grey one. And finally they had left Dragonsreach, and Ozan had sat down rather heavily on a bench beside the Gildergreen.

Now, Jenassa felt even less sure of what to make of him than she had when they had first met. What she did know was that he was shaken. It was clear from the way that his jaw was clenched, and how he stared at the cobblestones as if he couldn't hear the rustling of wind through the Gildergreen's ancient branches, or the shouting of the children who chased each other around the streets.

'All right?' Jenassa asked quietly, taking a seat beside her hirer.

He nodded, but his face didn't agree with the action.

'They seem to think it's some kind of honour,' Jenassa remarked, after they'd sat in silence for a few minutes. 'Being this… Dragonborn. I can't say I've ever heard of it.'

For a moment or two, Ozan was silent. Then, in a voice so quiet Jenassa had to strain her ears to hear him properly, he said, 'I don't want it.'

'Why not? From what those guards were saying, it gives you abilities – '

'And responsibilities. I don't want them. I have a promise to keep. I swore nothing would get in the way.'

_Twenty words in a single speeec, _Jenassa thought. _That's a new record._

'You're not going to see these Greybeards then?'

He shook his head.

'Is that no, you won't see them, or no, you won't not see them?'

'The latter.'

'I thought you didn't want – '

'But I must.'

His voice was so hollow, so resigned, that Jenassa decided instantly that she had to do something to try and take his mind off all this. 'It's past noon,' she stated, taking a quick look at the position of the sun. 'And we've not eaten since dawn. How about we get something to eat in the Bannered Mare?' Loyal was she was to Elrindir, she had to admit that the Mare did better food.

To her surprise, Ozan rose to his feet instantly, nodding.

The Bannered Mare was fairly crowded, as it often was at this time of day. Mikael was leaning against a pillar, strumming on his lute as he sang 'Ragnar the Red.' Uthgerd was cradling a tankard of mead, scowling as always, Sinmir was talking quietly to Hulda, and Brenuin was slumped on a bench at the edge of the room, gazing into the fire. Carlotta Valentia and her daughter appeared to be buying a loaf of bread from Saadia. Jenassa couldn't help but think how odd it was that to all these people, it was simply another day. Ozan had turned out to be some sort of legendary hero, but none of the Bannered Mare's customers or staff had any idea.

Ozan took a seat at a small table, and after an extremely short deliberation about what to buy, Jenassa approached Hulda, handed over their money, and swiftly returned to the table carrying two plates and a small bottle. 'Here,' she said. 'Pheasant roast for you, a salmon steak for me, and a bottle of mead to share.'

He didn't seem to be listening, and when Jenassa looked up from the food, she noticed that he wasn't even looking in her direction. She followed his gaze, and saw that it was fixed on the bar, where Hulda and Saadia were talking. His face was oddly rigid, and his hand had dropped to his sword hilt.

'Who is she?' he asked, and the words came out as a hiss. 'Her. There.'

He pointed. Jenassa frowned. 'Saadia. She works here. Sweeps the floors, serves food. Been here for years.'

He did not reply. Across the inn from them, Saadia turned around to speak to Mikael, and Ozan's eyes narrowed into slits.

'_Iman,' _he snarled.

'What are you – ' Jenassa started to say, but before she could finish the sentence, Ozan rose to his feet. His fingers were wrapping around his sword handle.

'Ozan, no!' Jenassa jumped up, wondering if she should grab hold of him. 'Not here!'

If Ozan had something against Saadia, and if he wanted to see her dead, that was fine with Jenassa. But it wouldn't be wise for him to do it in the middle of a packed inn, with everyone watching. More than once she'd had an employer break the law and it had never been easy persuading the guards to leave her alone afterwards.

The Redguard stopped, his eyes still fixed on Saadia, then slowly sunk back into his seat.

'If you're looking for a fight with her, wait until there's no one else around,' Jenassa said, unable to keep her relief from showing in her voice. 'Or half the city will be baying for your blood. And if you get killed, how am I supposed to get the rest of my money?'

Her joke did nothing to relieve the tension. Ozan picked up his knife and fork and sliced into his pheasant so ferociously that he left a deep scratch in the plate. 'Later,' he growled.

'What do you have against her?'

He didn't reply. She hadn't really expected him to.

After they'd eaten, Jenassa managed to convince Ozan to leave the inn and make for Belethor's, shop, to sell off some of the jumble of items they'd found inside the Barrow and had been small enough to carry with them. The Redguard was still glaring over his shoulder at Saadia as they left, and all the time they were in Belethor's shop, he seemed on edge. Jenassa had a feeling it wouldn't have taken much to make him snap, and when Belethor said something about how he'd sell his sister in a moment if he had one, Ozan's hands clenched into fists. But he did nothing, and said nothing until they'd left the store.

'Here,' he said, placing twenty gold coins in her palm. 'Thank you.'

And just like that, their business was concluded. To her surprise, Jenassa found that she was disappointed. For all his emotionlessness, she rather liked the Redguard. They weren't all that different, the pair of them. And she would have killed to find out why he seemed to loathe Saadia so much. But she knew that she had been dismissed.

'Don't mention it. It's a lonely thing, facing all the dangers of Skyrim by yourself. If you ever need an extra blade, you know where to find me.' Jenassa closed her hand around the coins. 'Hmm. I think I've got enough to buy myself a new sword, now.' She'd been using the same weapon for some years, and it was beginning to be more dent than blade.

Ozan's eyes sparked with interest. 'Where?'

'Warmaiden's. It's near the main gate. Best place to get weapons for miles.'

He pulled his Imperial-style sword from his belt and looked at it with distaste. 'Show me?'

As Jenassa led him towards Adrianne and Ulfberth's shop, she watched Ozan with increasing puzzlement. Saadia had been in Whiterun for years, as long as she could remember. If Ozan didn't know where Warmaiden's was, then he couldn't have been to Whiterun before. But if that was the case, how could he know Saadia?

_It doesn't matter, _she told herself. _In a few minutes he'll have vanished from your life, just like all the others. Just like it's meant to be._

As they neared the city walls, Jenassa caught sight of a guard standing near the gates, talking heatedly to a pair of citizens. That was nothing very unusual, except that they were both Redguard men, dressed in identical grey and brown tunics, cream breeches and long cloaks, with scimitars strapped at their sides. One's head was shaven, while the other had a pale blue cloth wrapped around his head, in the same way that Ozan wore his Stormcloak sash. _More Redguards. That race seems to be everywhere recently, _Jenassa thought. _First Ozan, then Saadia, now these two._

'Look, you've already been told you're not allowed here,' she heard the guard saying as they drew nearer. 'Turn around and go back the way you came.'

That was definitely something out of the ordinary. Apart from bandits and Khajiit caravans, Jenassa had never known the guards to forbid anyone to enter the city.

'We're causing no trouble,' one of the Redguards retorted. 'All we ask is to look for her.'

Jenassa felt rather than saw Ozan stop dead in his tracks beside her, and before she could think about what she was doing, she stopped too.

'I don't care what you're doing. After what happened, you're lucky I don't toss you in jail,' the guard snapped. 'Now get lost.'

'We will be back,' the other man growled. 'This is not over.'

Both he and his companion turned and marched towards the gate. As they pushed it open, Jenassa was about to head inside Warmaiden's and forget that she had ever seen them when, without warning, Ozan broke into a run.

'Kasif!' he shouted. 'Numan!'

The two Redguards spun around, and Jenassa saw their faces split into disbelieving grins.

'Ozan?' One of them took a step towards him as he skidded to a stop in front of them. 'What are you doing here?'

'Me?' Ozan said, his eyebrows lifting.

'I suppose he's got as much reason to be here as we have,' the other man said with a shrug. 'It's good to see you. Thought you were long dead. Where's Meerah?'

Jenassa, moving closer, saw Ozan tense for a moment, then give a minute shake of his head.

The man wearing the hood placed a hand on his shoulder. 'I'm sorry, Zan.'

There was a moment of silence, then the hooded one asked, 'So. Why _are _you here?'

'For the same reason as we are, I expect,' the other butted in, before Ozan could say a word. 'Looking for _her.'_

Ozan nodded. 'I found her.'

Jenassa's curiosity overcame her, and she warily approached them. 'Do you mean Saadia?'

The two strangers instantly reached for their scimitars. 'This is nothing to do with you, elf,' Hood snarled.

Ozan held up a hand. 'No. She's a friend. She can help. If she wants.' He turned and looked questioningly at Jenassa, who shrugged.

'If there's anything I can help with, I'd be glad to.'

'We'll give good money for any assistance,' Shaven-Head told her, moving his hand away from his weapon.

_Answers and a profit, _Jenassa thought. _Perfect._

'We may need her,' Ozan said. 'Where's Kematu?'

'We've made camp in a cave not far from here. He's there. So are the others – some of them, anyway. I think he'll be pleased to see you.' Hood was grinning from ear to ear.

'Have you really found her?' Shaven-Head demanded. 'Are you sure?'

His nod seemed to satisfy them, and they exchanged gleeful smiles. Ozan seemed to have completely forgotten about buying a new sword, but then, Jenassa had too. 'Lead the way,' he said.

Jenassa hurried to catch up with him as he strode off after his two kinsmen. 'I hope you won't mind if I ask what's going on.'

'No time to explain now, Dunmer.' Hood appeared to have overheard them. 'If you're really on our side, you'll see soon enough.'

Ozan cast a fierce glance back in the direction of the city. 'And so will she.' His eyes glinted dangerously. 'The Greybeards can wait.'

Despite the fact that she was in the company of complete strangers who would probably kill her the moment she put a foot out of line, and the fact that she had no idea whatsoever what was going in, Jenassa smiled to herself, more out of amusement than anything. She didn't know who these people were, or how Ozan knew them, or what their interest in Saadia was. But she knew one thing for sure.

Ozan was the strangest hirer she'd ever had. And he was also by far the most interesting.

* * *

**Ozan hasn't completely forgotten about being Dragonborn - it's just that now he's found the Alik'r, he has (to him) more important things on his mind.**

**I expect that you'll probably be able to work out what Ozan's problem with Saadia is, but Jenassa won't be finding out 'till next chapter. I'll try to write it quickly, but it'll have to wait until I've finished the next chapter of _Dragonheart, _and I've also got a request for a friend that needs writing, so there might be some delay. It'll be up before long though, I promise. **


	2. Chapter Two

**Oh, writer's block, how I hate you. I feel like it was payback for the first chapter flowing so well. Ah well, I eventually got over it, and here's chapter two. I don't think it's the best thing I've ever written, but hopefully the next chapter will be more interesting. **

**I may be using a little artistic license in this chapter. Kematu says in the game that if it weren't for Saadia, 'Taneth could have held its ground in the war.' The fighting between Hammerfell and the Dominion ended in 4E 180, which is 21 years before the beginning of _Skyrim. _I think Saadia must have been in at least her late teens before she could play the part she did, whoever's telling the truth, so that would make her in her late 30s in the game, and I don't think she looks that old. So depending on whether Saadia is just older than she looks or it was an oversight in the script, I may or may not be altering the facts slightly… I apologise if I am. (The wiki was no help, all it said was that it happened 'sometime before 4E 201.') But I'm going to say that the Taneth incident took place roughly seven years ago – perhaps the Dominion was making an attempt to reclaim parts of Hammerfell, or something. I'm sorry if this tweaking of the history upsets anyone, though I don't think it would damage any of the game lore. My only excuse is that I did at least do my research! If you see a problem with my reasoning, please tell me and I'll be sure to make some changes.**

**Anyway, I'll be quiet now. Here's the next chapter!**

* * *

Depending on where exactly you were in Skyrim, travelling a long distance on foot could be enjoyable, unpleasant, boring, or complete and utter Oblivion. The Reach, for example, was Jenassa's least favourite place to make a journey. The twisted trees and jagged rocks were bad enough, but having to look over your shoulder constantly to make sure there were no Forsworn about to ambush you didn't really make for a pleasant outing. Then there were the marshes of Hjaalmarch – a nice place, if you didn't mind constantly sinking knee-deep in mud and slush or being attacked by mudcrabs every five minutes. A Nord might have no trouble traversing Winterhold, but for a Dunmer with far less resistance to the cold, the snowdrifts, sabre cats, frost trolls and blizzards quickly became tedious.

There were, however, places that were fairly pleasant to travel through. The woods of the Rift, for instance, or the pine forests of Falkreath. And there were definitely worse places to go on a journey to an unspecified location with two strangers and a man you hardly knew without any real explanation as to why you were going there than the plains of Whiterun. Even if everything her companions said was confusing, at least Jenassa could enjoy the scenery.

Whiterun was perhaps the easiest Hold to travel in. The terrain, for the most part, was flat, so there were few hills to climb or valleys to pass through – not that there was anything wrong with valleys, exactly, but they were so convenient for ambushes. Because of the lack of tree cover on the tundra, if there was any danger around, it could be spotted quickly. And it was rather beautiful, too. The grass was a pretty shade of yellow-gold, and on a clear, cloudless day like this, the sky was the rich blue of the feathers on a jay's wing.

So far, the journey had passed without any major incident, other than a few wolves mistakenly thinking that they would be easy prey. The four of them had quickly proven the beasts wrong. Jenassa had noticed as they fought that the two strange Redguards fought with almost identical moves to those she had seen Ozan using earlier.

As they walked, she'd asked Ozan about the identities of his two kinsmen, and as she'd expected, his reply was brief. 'Kasif. Numan.' He pointed to the one with the hood and the one with the shaven head in turn. 'Old friends.'

'And why are they looking for Saadia?'

'You'll understand soon.'

Realising that no answers were forthcoming from him, she'd approached Kasif, but he'd spoken before she had a chance to. 'I know you want answers, but they're not mine to give. If our leader thinks he can trust you, then you'll find out what this is about.'

'Your leader?'

'Kematu. My advice is not to speak to him unless he speaks to you, and do whatever he tells you to. If he asks you to leave, you leave. If he asks you to stay, you stay. If he says jump, you don't even ask how high, you just jump.'

_That shouldn't be too hard, _Jenassa thought. Being a mercenary meant that she was used to taking orders.

'What exactly is it that he leads?'

Kasif hesitated, and Numan called across to her. 'We're called the Alik'r. That's all you need to know.'

'And where are we heading?'

'Swindler's Den.' Kasif spoke the words with a trace of distaste in his voice. 'It's a cave system where we've been sheltering for some time. It's only a few more minutes' walk.'

None of them spoke for the remainder of the journey, which meant that Jenassa had plenty of time to think through the situation and attempt to piece it together. If Ozan knew Kasif and Numan, it made sense to assume that he was either a member of their group or had been at some point in the past. The fact that they were looking for Saadia, combined with Ozan's reaction to seeing her in the Bannered Mare, made it probable that she had committed some kind of crime against them, and they were looking for revenge.

There was only one thing Jenassa was completely sure about. She remembered the question that Kasif had asked at the Whiterun gates – '_Where's Meerah?' _And though Ozan had said nothing, his expression had made it clear that whoever Meerah was, Ozan had loved her, and he had lost her. And he blamed Saadia for it. The only question was _why_ he blamed her.

Kasif was true to his word; it wasn't long before they arrived outside the entrance to a tunnel that twisted away out of sight into a lump of rock that jutted out of the tundra. After a brief discussion between Numan and a Nord clad in hide armour - a bandit of some kind, probably - who was guarding the way in, the party headed inside. Several other bandits shot them suspicious glances as they made their way through the cave.

'What are they here for?' she asked Kasif.

'Protection. If anyone unwanted comes in, hopefully this lot will slow them down before they can reach us. We'll be warned if someone tries to take us out.'

As they continued to head deeper underground, Jenassa found herself having to suppress a shudder. She had been into plenty of caves, mines and subterranean ruins of various sorts during her time, but that didn't mean she had learned to like them. She had always found the thought having of huge swathes of earth between herself and the open air rather disagreeable.

'All right?'

Hearing Ozan speak surprised her, and his question surprised her even more, if only because he was taking an interest in her. 'These earthen passages do not agree with me,' she told him. 'I already miss the wind and sky.'

He made no comment, but he nodded as if in agreement.

After travelling through the stone passageways for some minutes, even having to wade through one flooded with waist-deep water at one point and through a thin waterfall that drenched them all thoroughly, though the Alik'r didn't seem to even notice it, they arrived at a wooden ramp that led to a jutting ledge of stone. A man was standing on the overhang, watching them come, and around him, a few more Alik'r were gathered, many of them with their hands resting on the hilts of their scimitars.

The man standing apart from the others was dressed in the same brown tunic, grey breeches and thin cape as the rest, but Jenassa knew instantly that this was the leader. It was his demeanour that told her; he strode towards them with long strides, with the confidence and self-assurance of a cat. The other Alik'r hung back, and their eyes were fixed upon him. It was blatantly obvious that this was Kematu.

'Numan. Kasif. You're back.' He spoke clearly and calmly, with the air of someone who was used to being listened to. 'Did you have any luck with – '

Ozan took a step forwards, moving past the others to stand at the front of the party. 'Kematu,' he said.

The man's eyes widened, and Jenassa heard a few soft gasps echo from the ranks of the men standing behind him.

'Ozan.' There was a trace of surprise in Kematu's voice, but none of the disbelief there had been in those of Numan and Kasif when they saw Ozan in Whiterun. Something told Jenassa this was a man who never questioned what he saw with his own eyes. 'By the Gods. I never thought to see you alive again. I thought you'd died back in Taneth.'

Ozan's expression grew hard and closed. 'I should have.'

Kematu swept his gaze over the group. It settled on Jenassa for a moment, and she saw a flash of suspicion in his eyes. But all he said was, 'Meerah isn't with you.'

_Her again__. _Who in Azura's name was Meerah?

Ozan shook his head.

'I'm sorry,' Kematu said, just as Kasif had in Whiterun, when he had asked about Meerah and been given the same reply. And just as there had been then, there was a short silence, and Jenassa saw some of the other Alik'r eyeing Ozan pityingly.

'I assume you're here in Skyrim for the same reason as us,' Kematu said finally. 'Who's your friend?'

Jenassa quickly decided she didn't want someone else to speak for her. 'Jenassa. I'm a mercenary, currently in Ozan's service.' That wasn't entirely true, seeing as she'd completed the task for which he'd hired her, but it was far simpler to say that than to explain the actual situation, since it avoided any questions of the 'why are you still here?' sort.

'She's trustworthy,' Ozan said. Jenassa guessed that he, too, had seen the suspicion in Kematu's eyes.

'I hope you're right.' His eyes narrowed. 'And I also hope you've got some news for me, seeing as you've been absent without leave for – '

'I found her,' Ozan interrupted.

A murmur ran through the ranks of the watchers, and several of them swapped glances – some of them thrilled, others perturbed.

'Iman?' Kematu's voice was suddenly charged with excitement. 'You know where she is?'

An alarm bell rang in Jenassa's head. _Iman. _That was what Ozan had said when he'd seen Saadia in the Bannered Mare. It seemed fairly safe to assume that Kematu was referring to Saadia, and if they were calling her by some other name… then it would appear that the name Saadia was an alias. Jenassa frowned. The serving girl had always seemed to be just one more citizen – completely harmless, nothing interesting or unusual about her at all. But in her experience, people who had nothing to hide seldom used aliases.

Kematu was staring at Ozan, his face serious. 'Come with me. Quickly. Numan, gather the others. And someone make sure none of the bandits come inside. We need to talk in private; all of us.'

'Would you prefer it if I left you?' Jenassa asked.

'No,' Ozan said, before Kematu could reply. 'We may need you.'

'You think we can use her?' The Alik'r leader turned a questioning gaze on Jenassa's hirer.

Ozan dipped his head.

Jenassa wasn't sure she wanted to be _used, _but her curiosity about the whole business overcame her displeasure at Kematu's word choice, and so she followed without a word as Kematu led them – to her annoyance – back through the waterfall and the flooded tunnel, into a room where a table rested in a corner. Kematu pulled the table further out into the room and stood at his head. Ozan settled himself at Kematu's shoulder. Jenassa thought it best to hang back slightly. She wasn't a member of this order, after all. Still, she remained close enough to make sure that she didn't miss anything that happened.

Before long, other Alik'r warriors began to stream into the room, and without exception, their eyes fell upon Ozan immediately, and as the room filled with people, it filled with questions, too, all of them in the same vein.

'Ozan?'

'We thought you were dead!'

'Where have you been?'

'Why didn't you come back to us, if you've been alive this whole time?'

'Where's Meerah?'

'Alik'r!' Kematu didn't shout, only raised his voice slightly, but it was enough to silence the others intantly. 'Let's have some quiet. All right, Ozan. Let's hear what you have to say.'

Jenassa wondered if these people knew just how little Ozan liked to speak. She wasn't surprised when his speech was short and to the point.

'She's in Whiterun, working in an inn.'

And that was it.

'And?' someone prompted him.

Jenassa felt something small snap inside her. She wasn't angry – no, it would take a great deal more than this to stir her to anger – but she abruptly decided that she'd prefer not to be kept in the dark any longer. 'Ozan, I assume that all this has to do with Saadia?'

He inclined his head a tiny way.

Jenassa breathed in deeply, then took a step forward. 'I have about as much understanding of why you're searching for her as a Forsworn has of the manufacture of proper clothing, but I can provide you with a little information about Saadia.' Ignoring the fact that her analogy seemed to have confused most of them – she guessed they had never encountered any Forsworn - she continued. 'She's been working in an inn called the Bannered Mare in Whiterun for quite some time. She's well liked, as far as I can tell, provides good service – '

'What does she look like?' Kematu interrupted. 'We need to be sure it's her.'

'She has black hair, about so long.' Jenassa gestured to a point just below her shoulders. 'Blue eyes, if my memory serves me correctly. And she has a scar – '

She stopped then, because with the exception of Ozan, every single person in the room had drawn their breath, and was staring at her even harder than they had been before.

Jenassa coughed quietly. 'Three scars, to be precise,' she said, feeling slightly self-conscious, which wasn't something she felt often. 'On her cheek, here…' She traced the pattern with her fingers.

Kematu slammed his fist down on the table. 'It's her all right.'

Ozan made a small sound that, if it had contained words, would probably have been saying, 'I told you so.'

'But what can we do about it?' It was one of the warriors, looking both eager and worried as he spoke. 'The guards won't let us into the city.'

Kematu fixed him with a scorching glare. 'And if you and Seref hadn't accused that woman without proof and angered the guards, we wouldn't have this problem.'

'Ozan – you've been in and out of the city already,' Kasif said. 'They'd let _you _in. If you could lead her outside – '

'She'd never trust a Redguard,' Ozan said quietly.

Kematu nodded. 'He's right. Ozan has a better chance than any of the rest of us, but she'd still be suspicious. We can't risk it. What we need is someone of another race. Someone who won't put her on the alert.'

There were a few seconds of complete silence. It took Jenassa a while to realise that every head had turned back towards her again.

_Ozan saw this coming, _she thought. _He knew all along it might come to this. That's why he asked for me to stay with him. How long has he been planning this?_

She drew in a deep breath. 'If you need me to help you with whatever it is you're doing, I will. But first, I'd like to know what exactly is going on.'

The corner of Kematu's mouth twitched slightly, as if he was fighting off a smile. 'That's fair enough.'

He folded his arms. 'Your 'Saadia' isn't who she says she is. Her real name is Iman. And she's from Hammerfell, as we are. She used to be a noble of House Suda in the city of Taneth. Then she betrayed us all. She sold the city out to the Aldmeri Dominion. If it hadn't been for what she did, they could never have taken Taneth. But she let them into the city. They killed hundreds of people. The Houses want her brought back – alive. That's why we're here. The resistence against the Dominion is alive and well in Hammerfell, and they want justice.'

Jenassa winced before she could stop herself. The conflicts of Tamriel… they never really concerned her. The Civil War raging in Skyrim, the Argonian invasion of Morrowind, even the Great War… she'd stayed on the outskirts of them all, never getting involved, never even considering taking part, maybe preferring one side to the other, but letting it all wash over her head. Wars were not her business. But she knew all too many stories of the atrocities committed by the Thalmor in the Great War. She knew that they were perhaps the cruellest order ever to be founded on Tamriel, and that whatever they had done to Taneth upon capturing it would not have been pleasant. She couldn't even imagine what might possess someone to betray so many people to such a fate.

She stared around at the faces that surrounded her, and at last she understood the anger and bitterness that she saw in them. And she looked at Ozan with new eyes. If he had seen what happened that day, it was no wonder he acted the way he did. Maybe that was when and why he had lost Meerah, whoever Meerah was (had been?) and if that was true, she could understand his hatred of Saadia. She could see why it had taken him so much effort to resist putting a knife between her ribs then and there, with the whole tavern watching.

'What is it you want me to do?' she asked, and she noticed smiles flickering across a few faces.

'Lure her out.' Ozan's expression was as stony as ever, but there was a glimmer of uncharacteristic excitement in his eyes. _He's been waiting a long time for this._

'If you spoke to her and found a way to get her to leave the city, we could ambush her.' Kematu was nodding. 'If we can get her far enough away from Whiterun, she's ours.' He turned to Jenassa. 'Would you be willing to do that? Lead her into a trap?'

'I'm willing. Just tell me what to say, where to go, and what to do.'

'Kematu,' Ozan said suddenly. 'I made a promise.' When he was met with a confused frown, he added, 'Of vengeance. To Meerah.'

The Alik'r leader's gaze softened ever so slightly.

'You can't kill her, Ozan,' he said. 'We need her alive. But I'll leave the actual capturing to you.'

Ozan still looked less than happy.

'You'll be getting your vengeance,' Kematu told him firmly. 'You were the one who found Iman. That means that when we take her back to Hammerfell, you'll be the one responsible for her being brought to justice.'

Something that might have been pain flitted across Ozan's face. But he nodded.

'All right. Listen up, everybody.' Kematu leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. 'This is the plan.'

* * *

Jenassa didn't know why she felt so uneasy as she entered the Bannered Mare. There was no danger there for her – at least, she was fairly confident that there wasn't. If Saadia saw though her, it was unlikely that a barmaid would be able to overpower a mercenary who had been fighting for a living since long before her opponent was born.

She caught sight of her target instantly, heading towards the bar with a wooden crate nestled in her arms. Jenassa paused for a moment, running through Kematu's instructions to her in her head, then hurried forwards. 'Saadia,' she began.

'Hold on a minute.' The Redguard woman didn't even glance in her direction. 'I need to take this mead crate to Hulda. Brenuin cleared us out yesterday – ten bottles in an hour and a half, can you believe it?'

Having based herself in Whiterun for a while, Jenassa knew Brenuin fairly well - or rather, she knew his reputation - and could easily believe it. But she hadn't come there to discuss the habits of a drunkard. 'Saadia, it's you they're looking for, isn't it?'

The maid froze rigid. 'What are you talking about?'

_Be careful, Jenassa. Don't make her suspect anything. _'Those Redguard warriors. The ones with the hoods and the capes and the curved swords. I've heard them talking. They're looking for you, aren't they?'

Saadia stared for a few moments, then slowly set down the crate. 'Come with me,' she said quietly. 'We need to talk privately.'

She set off at a walk that was halfway to being a run towards a side room. Jenassa followed her up a flight of wooden stairs and into what looked to be Saadia's bedchamber.

'Close the door,' Saadia commanded, the second Jenassa had stepped across the doorway.

The Dunmer took a quick look at the other woman – no weapons, except for a small dagger. If it came to a fight, it shouldn't be too difficult to win. She reached for the door and pushed it shut.

As it swung back into place, Saadia moved with the speed of a striking snake, whipping her dagger from its sheath. Jenassa's hand flew instinctively to her sword hilt, but though she curled her fingers around the handle, she did not draw the blade.

'So, are you working with them? You think you can take me? You so much as touch me and you're going to lose fingers. I mean it!' Saadia brandished the dagger almost desperately. 'I'll… I'll cut you in half!'

Jenassa raised her eyebrows. _With that thing? I somehow doubt it._ 'Tell me what's going on,' she demanded.

'The Alik'r know where I am?' Saadia didn't seem to have acknowledged the fact that Jenassa had spoken. 'What did they offer you? Gold? How many more of them are coming? _Tell me!_'

Jenassa breathed in deeply. _Time to put on a show. _'I haven't so much as shared a single word with them,' she said calmly, praying to Azura that the other woman didn't see through her lie. 'But I happened to overhear them, and they said they were looking for a Redguard woman with a scar like yours who lived here in Whiterun. It seemed to be that they knew where you were. I didn't particularly like the look of them, so I thought you might appreciate it if I warned you. However, if you didn't want to know, I can always take my leave.'

She turned towards the door, and had to force back a smirk as Saadia called after her. 'No! Wait. I… I need your help. There isn't anyone I can trust here in the city.'

Jenassa slowly turned around. 'Maybe,' she said, not wanting to give herself away by acting as if she trusted Saadia so soon after the Redguard had pulled a dagger on her. 'What is it you want?'

Saadia slipped the knife back into her belt and stared at Jenassa for a moment, as if sizing her up. 'It's Jenassa, isn't it?' she asked. 'You've stayed in the inn a couple of times. Why did you come to warn me? I don't even know you.'

Jenassa shrugged. 'I heard a group of warriors talking about how they planned to apprehend a woman, and I didn't like the sound of it.' She was glad Saadia didn't know her all that well – anyone who understood anything about Jenassa's character would have known that it would have been hard for her to care less about such a thing. 'So, if you do require my assistance, I suggest you tell me why you need it.'

Saadia seemed to relax slightly, but didn't speak for a few seconds, as if trying to figure out what to say. 'I am not who the people of Whiterun think I am,' she said finally. 'My real name is Iman. I am a noble of House Suda in Hammerfell. The men looking for me, the Alik'r, they're assassins in the employ of the Aldmeri Dominion. They wish to exchange my blood for gold.'

_Liar, _Jenassa thought, but she nodded. 'And now they've found you.'

Saadia let out a groan of mingled fear and frustration. 'I thought they weren't allowed inside the city! They must have found a way in. Even if they haven't, they'll find me sooner or later if I stay. I can't believe I have to pick up and leave again, after all this!'

'I expect that would be preferable to being dead, don't you think?' Jenassa asked.

The Redguard smiled shakily. 'I suppose so. But I don't know where to go. I can't keep running forever.'

Jenassa forced a comforting tone into her voice – it wasn't a way of speaking that she used often, and she hoped it didn't sound as unnatural as it felt. 'Come with me. I've got money – I can buy a horse for you at the stables. Then you'll be able to outrun them. Maybe if I can find them, I'll feed them some false information, lead them astray.'

Saadia's eyes widened. 'You'd do that for me?'

'I'll gladly help anyone opposing agents of the Dominion,' Jenassa told her. It was the truth, really, since that was exactly what she was doing, except it was the Alik'r she was helping.

'All right. If this is the only way… I guess I've got no choice.' Saadia gestured for Jenassa to take the lead. 'Thank you.'

Saadia moved quickly, grabbing a bag from a wardrobe and stuffing only a few items into it before making for the door. She must have been preparing for this for a long time, if she already had a bag ready. But Jenassa seriously doubted she had anything in that bag to save her from the group of Alik'r warriors waiting at the stables.

Jenassa was already on edge, but it grew slowly worse as they crossed the city and slipped through the gates. If Ozan, Kematu and the other Alik'r hadn't hidden themselves properly, if Saadia saw them, things could get very nasty very quickly. But there was no need to worry, she told herself firmly. The day was growing old, night was minutes away, and the shadows were dark and long. There would be plenty of places to hide. If all the Alik'r were as good at keeping to the darkness as Ozan was, there wouldn't be much of a problem. And even if Saadia was alerted to their presence, there was only one way that a battle between about fifteen warriors and a tavern girl armed with only a dagger could go.

Saadia cast a regretful look back at the city as they hurried down the path towards the stables. 'I was starting to like Whiterun,' she sighed. 'I suppose it can't be helped. I just hope the Alik'r don't spot me before we get to the stables.'

Jenassa decided not to answer. Saadia's remark hit far too close to the truth for her liking.

It seemed like only seconds and yet also like a hundred years before they reached the stables. Saadia instantly raced up to the door of the house and rattled the handle. 'It's locked!' she burst out, her voice full of fresh fear.

So far everything was going to plan; Kematu had promised that he'd make sure the door was locked by the time they arrived. Jenassa peered around the corner, towards the stalls. 'The stablemaster might be with the horses,' she offered.

Saadia dashed around the side of the house instantly; it seemed she was so desperate that she was willing to go with any suggestion. Jenassa glanced over her shoulder, her eyes scanning the plains. Were the Alik'r hiding there, or behind the stable, or -

There was a sudden burst of muffled sound from behind her. A rustling of cloth. A soft thud, and a thump. A scream that didn't have time to last half a second before it was stifled.

Jenassa whirled around.

Ozan had appeared as if out of thin air, and he was pinning Saadia against the wall of the stable. The bag she had been carrying lay on the grass some distance away. One of his hands was clamped firmly over her mouth, the other grasped his dagger, and the blade was pressed against her throat. Every muscle in his body was taut, and he was trembling slightly – perhaps it was from the cold, but something told Jenassa that it was from rage. There was more emotion displayed on his face than she had ever seen there before; his eyes were narrowed almost to slits, and his mouth was twisted into a snarl.

Jenassa drew her sword. She had no doubt that Ozan wouldn't let the woman break free from his grip, but all the same, she felt it would be better for her to be prepared. She saw Saadia's gaze flick to her, a cry for help clear in them. The desperation quickly turned to horror and anger as Jenassa did not move. The Dark Elf could see the realisation hitting home.

Around her, with quiet, almost inaudible footsteps, the Alik'r melted out of the shadows, their scimitars drawn and glinting red and silver in the light of the moons that were just beginning to rise up into the darkening sky. Saadia's eyes widened still further and she contorted in Ozan's grasp, her hands lifting to his arm, trying to pull it away. Though what could be seen of her face was lined with effort, the Redguard did not move an inch, and when he pushed the dagger edge a little further forwards, so close that it caused a tiny bead of blood to well up and trickle down the blade, she fell still, her sides heaving.

Ozan leaned in towards her, and Jenassa heard him speak in a low, savage hiss. 'Are you frightened?'

The Redguard woman writhed for a second before kicking Ozan in the shin. She might as well have tried to stab him with a flower for all the difference it made. He moved his hand away from her mouth, grasping her shoulder, pulling her a little way forwards before slamming her back against the wall. His dagger did not move away from her throat, and Jenassa knew that he would use it if Saadia tried to call for help. She seemed to know it too, for she made no sound aside from a panicked gasping.

'Are you frightened, Iman?' Ozan repeated the question, his tone even more vicious than before.

At the sound of her true name, the fight seemed to drain out of his hapless victim. She nodded.

Instantly, Ozan dropped the hand that held his dagger and, before she could move, seized the front of her dress and hurled her past him and onto the ground. With no time to hold out her hands to break her fall, she landed with a dull thump, her breath torn from her in ragged pants. She lifted her head, only to freeze immediately as Kematu lifted his hand and shot a jet of green light towards her. The paralysing spell struck her directly in the chest. Her entire body became as rigid as a board. She keeled over, unable to move or speak, and lay face down and motionless.

Ozan stepped over to her and turned her over with his foot. 'So was my sister,' he growled. 'When the Thalmor stormed Taneth. When they cut down any who tried to stop them. When they laughed as they killed her.'

He crouched beside her, his eyes burning into hers. 'You did that to her, Iman. You betrayed the city to the Dominion. You killed her.' Jenassa noticed that he was gripping his dagger so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. 'Her name was Meerah. When they take you back to Hammerfell to answer for what you have done, when they put your head on the block, when the axe is raised, remember that name. I was the one who found you, and I found you because I promised I would avenge her. You never touched her, never met her, never saw her, but you killed her. And now I have killed you.'

It was the longest speech Jenassa had ever heard him make, and there was so much fury and hatred and grief in it that it almost burned her ears to listen.

'Good work, Ozan.' As Ozan straightened up, Kematu moved nearer, staring down at the prone form of the woman he had chased all the way from Hammerfell. 'We meet at last, dear lady. I hope you're not angry with our friend here.' He waved a hand towards Jenassa. 'You didn't really expect to manipulate people forever, did you? Your luck had to run out sometime.'

He clicked his fingers at the watching Alik'r. Numan and another stepped forwards, carrying coils of rope. Within minutes, the Redguard woman was gagged bound tightly, unable to move even after the spell had worn off.

'Now then,' Kematu said, sounding satisfied. 'We'll take our friend back to Hammerfell, and she can finally pay the price for her treason.' A smile spread across his face. 'We're finally going home, men.'

Several of the Alik'r punched the air, and one or two began to cheer before realising that this was supposed to be a secret mission, and falling silent.

Kematu turned to Jenassa. 'Thank you for your help. You've helped bring a traitor to justice, and the spirits of those the Thalmor slew in Hammerfell will be able to rest in peace after this. I expect you'll be wanting your cut of the reward.' He thrust a hand into a pocket and pulled out a small cloth purse, which he tossed to Jenassa with a casual flick of his hand. She caught it swiftly, and from its weight, she could tell that there were several hundred Septims inside. She didn't try to hold back her smile – she'd experienced more excitement and made more money in two days than she usually did in weeks.

'What will be done with her?' she asked, nodding towards Saadia.

'She won't be harmed. Not on the way back, anyway. Once we've turned her over to the Houses, it won't be for us to decide what happens to her.' Kematu rubbed his hands together and raised his voice. 'We're moving out, Alik'r.'

Kasif picked up Saadia and, ignoring her struggling and her muffled protests, slung her over his shoulder. Kematu nodded to Jenassa and began to stride away, his warriors following. None of them looked back.

Ozan didn't move.

Jenassa looked at him questioningly. 'You're not going with them?'

At the sound of her words, the Alik'r turned around. Numan took a few steps towards Ozan. 'Aren't you coming?'

He sounded as surprised as Jenassa felt. Ozan had given no sign at all that he didn't intend to leave with his former comrades once Saadia had been captured. He had even swapped his scavenged, mismatched collection of armour for a set of the same clothes that the Alik'r wore, keeping only the chainmail tunic, and he had abandoned his Imperial-style sword for a traditional Redguard scimitar. It had certainly looked as if he planned to rejoin the Alik'r. Why was he hesitating?

'Come on, Ozan.' It was one of the few women who spoke. 'You're one of us. Come back to Hammerfell with us. You'll get to see the traitor brought to justice.'

'No.' The quiet word came from Kematu, who was gazing at Ozan with a strange look of sadness and sympathy in his eyes. 'This is his choice to make.'

He walked forwards to stand facing the younger man. 'Ozan, there will always be a place for you among the Alik'r, but if you wish to remain here, you have my blessing.'

Ozan lowered his gaze. 'There is nothing for me in Hammerfell,' he said softly. 'Not without Meerah.'

'How can you say that?' someone called. 'You have us!'

Neither Kematu nor Ozan gave any sign that they had heard the shout. 'I understand.' Kematu smiled for the first time. 'Thank you for all you've done. I hope that you're able to find some kind of happiness here.'

'Thank you, Kematu.' There was a warmth in Ozan's voice that Jenassa had never heard there before - a warmth she wouldn't have believed possible for him to feel.

The two men clasped hands and stood there for a moment. Then Kematu turned, and with one final dip of his head to his former comrade, he signalled to his warriors. They trudged away in the opposite direction to the city, into the thickening darkness that hung over the plains.

Ozan stood watching them go, his cape billowing in the light breeze, his face unreadable. It was some time before Jenassa felt it might be safe to approach him.

'I'll understand if you don't wish to tell me,' she began, 'but before we go our separate ways, I still have a handful of questions – '

The Redguard man held up one hand, and she fell silent.

He turned towards her, and though his expression was sombre, there was a new feeling of energy about him, as if he had been given fresh strength by what he had seen and done.

'You helped me fulfil my promise,' he said. 'So I will tell you. I will tell you everything.'

* * *

**... In the next chapter.**

**I expect you'll have worked out the basics of Ozan's story by now, but the rest will be revealed then, and I'll finally explain why he's so quiet - and why the story's title is what it is. (Anyone worked it out yet?)**

**I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I'll do my best to get the next one up soon! Thanks for reading. :)**


	3. Chapter Three

**Here, at last, is the final chapter! I've been slowed down by computer trouble and by writer's block, but here it is at last. It's shorter than the others, but it's just as much of an epilogue as it is a final chapter, so I think that's all right.**

**I've already got plans for another short story featuring Ozan and Jenassa, which will be written eventually... For now, ****I really hope you enjoy this chapter. Thanks so much for reading!**

* * *

CHAPTER THREE

Night had fallen, shrouding the streets of Whiterun with shadow. There was still life in the city, though; a few children seemed to have escaped the watchful eyes of their parents and were chasing each other along the paths, a handful of merchants remained at their stalls, hoping for last-minute customers, and the town guards patrolled as always, though from their weary movements, Jenassa suspected that they would all have preferred to be safely in bed, having downed a few bottles of mead.

She and Ozan sat side by side on one of the benches beneath the Gildergreen. The ancient tree's leaves stirred only gently in the breeze. Ozan's hands were clasped together, and his head was bowed. He seemed to be thinking hard.

After Ozan's promise to tell her 'everything,' they had returned inside the city. Jenassa had followed him up to the Gildergreen without asking why he was heading there. She knew that she always felt somehow peaceful when she was near the tree. Perhaps he had sensed the same calming effect about it, and hoped that it would make telling his story easier.

She had to admit, that the events of the previous few days had surprised her - not least because she was looking at herself a little differently now. As they had walked back to Whiterun, she had tried to see herself through Ozan's eyes, hoping to think of what might have made him trust her. And though she still couldn't answer that question, she thought that perhaps someone like her - a fellow mercenary who offered to help him in a quest that put her life at risk - was someone maybe worth trusting. She didn't want to be conceited, but she knew that if their places had been reversed, she would have been at least beginning to trust Ozan.

It had taken her by surprise, to think of herself as someone who did something to help others, rather than as just a hired blade.

Ozan had been sitting in silence for some times, as if preparing himself. Jenassa decided not to press him. He would speak when he felt ready.

At last, he drew in a long breath, and began.

'I don't remember our parents. I was three when they died; Meerah was ten. She said they were merchants. They sold things it was hard to get hold of from most traders. They were killed by guards who found out about their business. Meerah took care of me after that.'

He had started to trace circles on his palm with his thumb as he spoke. 'The Alik'r found us when I was six. They took us in.' He paused, his hands falling still. 'What did she tell you about them?'

Jenassa , now completely used to gathering Ozan's meaning from his vague sentences, took only a second to work out what she meant. 'Saadia? She said they were assassins working for the Dominion, though that latter part clearly isn't true.'

'It isn't. The first part has some truth in it. We – ' He stopped himself and tried again. '_They _are elite warriors. Not assassins, exactly, more of a mercenary force.'

Jenassa smiled. So he was, or had been, a mercenary too. Yet another thing that they had in common.

'They do what work is asked of them, as long as it requires a blade. I had more specialised skills than most. Kematu saw I had a talent for staying hidden. He trained me to walk in shadows, to strike silently and without being seen. If the Alik'r were tasked with eliminating anyone in secret, I was who they sent. Most Alik'r would not call themselves assassins. But I always did.'

So that was how Ozan had learned to walk so silently, to fight so fiercely. Perhaps it was why he was so quiet and cold, too. Jenassa had slain a fair number of mortals, and plenty of those killings had been done because her employer had told her to kill, not because they had attacked first. Still, she had no idea what it might be like to be a full-time assassin, especially from such a young age. Maybe living such a life for so long removed you from the rest of the world.

'We had lived outside the law all our lives. The transition was easy. Meerah and I became some of the Alik'r's best agents. Most of our assignments, we did together. We knew each other so well we barely even had to talk to each other.'

'Is that why you…' Jenassa trailed off, wondering if she was straying into forbidden territory.

'Speak so little?' Ozan finished. 'Partly. I spent most of my time with Meerah, and we never had to talk much. I believe I grew used to staying silent. But there is another reason.'

He pulled his dagger from its sheath and held it up to the light. 'I use this in many ways,' he had said. 'To protect others. To defend myself. But mostly to kill.' He sighed. 'Death has always been part of my life. I'm not a good man, Jenassa. I'm an assassin at my core. That is why I only use this blade when I feel I have true need, because if I used it when I had no need to, I would leave behind an even greater trail of chaos than I already do. By using it only when I need to, and as little as I can even then, I can stop myself from becoming… something terrible. And words are weapons too. They can cause harm. They can be just as destructive as this dagger. And so I use them only when I feel there is a need.' He sucked on his lower lip for a moment, then added, 'Also, there are very few I trust with my thoughts.'

Jenassa frowned. 'You're speaking… fairly freely now.'

'Because I think I can trust you. And because I don't think this story can do harm. I am the only one it can hurt.'

She stared at him, surprised and even a little flattered by his words. She was unsure what exactly she'd done to earn his trust – volunteering to trap Saadia, perhaps, or maybe just fighting at his side in Bleak Falls Barrow. She wondered if she would get an answer if she asked him. She doubted it.

'I don't know why Iman sold out the city,' Ozan continued with his story, still not lifting his gaze from the ground. 'All I know is that Meerah and I were returning form an assignment one night and suddenly the streets were swarming with Thalmor. We fled. We turned a corner. I ran into one of them. He knocked me down with a lightning spell.'

His eyes flicked up; they were staring into the distance now, as if he could see into the past, watch the events he was describing happening in front of him. 'Meerah cut him down. More of them came. We fought, but they were too many. Two disarmed me and held me. They made me watch as…'

For the first time, his voice faltered, but he swallowed hard and carried on. 'One of them threw Meerah against a wall and pinned her there as he screamed about elven supremacy and human inferiority. Then he threw her to the ground. He lifted his hand and charged a spell.'

He shook his head slowly, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was saying. 'She was afraid. I could see it. Meerah was never afraid, but then, as he prepared to kill her, she was. It was so wrong. And I couldn't help her. I just watched as he put an ice spike through my sister's heart.'

The last few words came out cracked and broken. A shudder ran through Ozan's body, and he closed his eyes.

'I'm sorry.' She could think of nothing else to say.

He nodded numbly.

'How… how old were you?'

His jaw clenched. 'Fifteen.'

It took a lot to horrify Jenassa, and even this news didn't quite go that far. She had seen terrible things by the time she was fourteen. But to see your own sister murdered in front of your eyes at such a young age? There was no telling what that might do to a person.

'When I saw her lying there, I lost control. I managed to break free, and I killed every elf I saw. Then I took Meerah and ran. I couldn't carry her and fight, so when I saw Thalmor coming, I hid. I heard some of them talking. They spoke of how they had entered the city. Iman of House Suda had told them the way in.'

His eyes narrowed as he said the last sentence, and his hands curled into fists.

'I reached the gates and fled outside. I stayed there all night, staring at the city. And when morning came, I buried Meerah. On the beach. She had always loved the sea. And I swore to her then that I would not rest until I had avenged her death.'

Bit by bit, everything was falling into place. 'So you went looking for Saa – for Iman.'

He nodded. 'I didn't try to find the other Alik'r. I stayed in Taneth for long enough to find out that Iman had been discovered by her House and fled. I followed. I walked across the Alik'r desert and I climbed the Jerall Mountains. No matter where she went, I was always one step behind. Then she vanished. I could find no trace of her for years, but I kept searching, and finally I heard a rumour that she was hiding in Skyrim. I headed north and tried to cross the border. But there was a battle… Imperials and Stormcloaks were fighting. I tried to get around them, but I was seen, mistaken for a rebel, and the next thing I knew I was being scheduled for execution. When they sentenced me to death, it wasn't dying that troubled me. It was that I would be able to keep my promise.'

After she had overcome her amazement at hearing such a long speech from him, Jenassa said, 'But you escaped. Obviously.'

Another nod. 'Helgen was attacked by a dragon. I escaped in the chaos. Then the people of Riverwood asked me to take a message to the Jarl of Whiterun about the attack. I agreed. I had nothing else to do, and I thought I might be able to find news about Iman in Whiterun.' He shrugged. 'You know the rest.'

Jenassa hesitated before asking her next question. 'And… if you don't mind my asking… how do you feel now? Seeing as you've found her.'

'I don't know.' A long sigh escaped him. 'I'm glad that she'll face justice, and that I had a part in that. But now everything's changed. I would never feel right back in Hammerfell, after everything I saw that night. But here I seem to be some… Dragonborn. A hero. And I'm no hero.'

He bowed his head, his eyes flicking down to the ground again. 'Nothing seems right with Meerah gone. She was always there for me. She was the only person I ever loved.'

There was a lengthy silence. Jenassa had no idea what she could say to comfort him – if he even wanted to be comforted. 'So what will you do now?'

'The Greybeards,' he said. 'I'll answer their call.'

Jenassa cast a quick glance in the direction of the Throat of the World, remembering the thundering voices that had echoed over the plains. 'And if you do have to be this… Dragonborn hero…'

'Then I will. While I must.'

'And then?'

He shrugged. 'Continue with my old work.'

Her confusion must have shown on her face, because he added, 'Skyrim must have an order like the Alik'r.'

He was back to speaking in his short, clipped sentences again – Jenassa wondered if he was trying to make up for speaking so much earlier.

'Well,' she said slowly. She was uncertain whether or not she should be asking this, but he had let her stay with him so far. 'If you ever need the presence of an extra fighter at your side – '

His voice broke across her. 'I could do with the company of a friend.'

He lifted his head and turned towards her. The deep brown eyes drilled into hers.

Jenassa felt a smile dawning on her face. 'Then you will have it.'

He gazed at her for a long time. And then he did something Jenassa had never seen him do before.

He smiled.

'Thank you, Jenassa,' was all he said.

* * *

High Hrothgar felt unlike any other place Ozan had ever been to before. Perhaps it was because he had been raised among warriors. Being inside the home of men dedicated to a life of peace… it felt strange, to say the least.

All the same, he found himself liking High Hrothgar. He felt safe there, and safety was a notion that was almost foreign to him. The Alik'r had enemies; even back in Taneth, the only home had had ever known, he had needed to watch his back. In his years alone, tracking down Iman, danger had been everywhere.

But here in these halls, there was no need to keep his hand near his weapons, or even to carry his weapons with him at all. Even if some attacker was able to make it past the wolves and ice wraiths and frost trolls that guarded the mountain path, they would never be able to touch him. He had witnessed the power of the Greybeards' Voices – no enemy would withstand such power for long.

He couldn't exactly relax. He wasn't sure he'd ever relaxed in his entire life, and he definitely wouldn't be able to do so now, with so many conflicting emotions at war within him. He was, in a small way, angry – angry that Iman had been taken back to Hammerfell, and that he would not be able to put an end to her himself, and angry that he had become a pawn in some greater plan of the Divines. And he was confused, too, confused by why he of all people had been chosen. But more than anything he felt an overwhelming, weary relief that his quest to avenge Meerah was over, over at last.

Maybe there was, after all, a good thing about being this… Dragonborn. He had something to do now, something to focus on. He hadn't lost all purpose.

But this new destiny that had been set out for him – stopping the black dragon from Helgen, saving Skyrim from destruction, learning to use this Voice thing – it was too much to take in, too quickly.

He was glad Jenassa was here with him. It was comforting to have someone around who he felt he could depend on. Someone he could trust.

Ozan did not trust easily. Trust was a weapon that others could use against you. But the Dunmer woman had earned his respect, and, yes, his trust. Mostly it was because she had offered to help him. He couldn't remember a time in his life when someone other than Meerah or Kematu had voluntarily helped him - or anyone, for that matter. She had fought by his side, aiding him even though the quest had not been hers, and she had risked her own life to help him capture Iman. And though at first it had been because she was trying to earn the Septims for her next meal, Ozan had soon realised that by the time she learned of Iman's betrayal, money had no longer been her motivation. She had stayed to help.

It was the first time he had ever seen someone do anything when there was nothing in it for them.

And there was another reason, too. Jenassa reminded him of himself. She was as mixture of mercenary and assassin, just as he was. And she also reminded him of Meerah – in fact, Jenassa acted so much like his sister at times that it was almost painful. She was cautious, calm and cool, just as Meerah had been, and she was just as fearless in battle.

Ozan would have trusted Meerah even if she had been holding a knife to his throat. He knew that it was, perhaps, foolish of him, but he couldn't help trusting someone who was so much like her.

But though Jenassa gave him companionship – something he hadn't had since Meerah's death – she could not give him answers. And that was why, after night fell on his first day in High Hrothgar, he found himself walking the quiet stone corridors, looking for Arngeir.

He wasn't sure he understood the Greybeards' spokesperson, and he was knew that Arngeir didn't understand him. Ozan prided himself somewhat on being hard to understand. But he knew that it was Arngeir that he needed to speak to now.

He found the Nord elder in the main hall, kneeling on the stone floor with his hands slightly outstretched. He stood watching for a moment, unsure of whether or not he should interrupt. Arngeir didn't seem to be aware of him – Ozan moved silently by instinct, even in a place of safety.

He waited for some time before deciding he might as well make the Nord aware of his presence. He took a step forward, letting the sound of his feet on the floor echo through the chamber.

Arngeir raised his head. 'Is there something you need, Dragonborn?'

Ozan hesitated, then sat cross-legged opposite Arngeir. 'Why me?' he said quietly.

The Greybeard frowned. 'Why _not _you, Dragonborn?'

Though he kept his face impassive, as always, Ozan found himself surprised. Wasn't it obvious? 'I'm a strange choice.' When Argneir did not reply, he said, 'For a hero.'

'Akatosh would not have chosen you if he did not think you were worthy of the position,' Arngeir said simply, and closed his eyes again as if that answered everything.

Ozan stared at him for a moment. 'You doubt me,' he said at last.

Arngeir did not move at first. Then he opened his eyes and gazed calmly at Ozan. 'I agree that you were an unusual choice,' he said slowly. 'But I do not think there can be any question that you are the right one.'

'I'm no hero.' They were words that he had found himself shouting inside his mind a thousand times over the past day.

A smile tugged at the corner of Arngeir's mouth. 'Not yet, maybe.'

'I have killed people.' Ozan watched the Nord's face carefully to see how he would react to this, and when given no response, added, 'When others have ordered me to kill.'

'Your former line of work isn't a factor in this,' Anrgeir replied. 'What you do know is the important thing. If you choose to fulfil your destiny and confront the World Eater, then you shall be a hero. If you do nothing, and allow Alduin to consume this world, then you will have proven yourself unworthy.'

'I wouldn't,' Ozan said instantly.

'Wouldn't let him destroy the world? No, I didn't think so.' Arngeir looked at him carefully. 'And why is that, Dragonborn?'

Ozan stared at him, realising to his surprise that this was a question he couldn't answer. Why _was _he willing to do this?

The answer didn't take too much thinking about. He had been brought up to kill; as far as he was concerned, death was a part of life. But never once had he killed without a reason. He would never end a life for no other reason than the fun of it. And that was what Alduin planned to do.

The world was not a good place. It was filled with people – people who were cruel and selfish and callous. People who saw no harm in betraying a city to the Dominion. People who could murder a girl in front of her brother, and laugh. And people like him.

But there were also people like Meerah, who cared for you and watched over you. People like Kematu, who valued your talents and respected your decisions. People like Jenassa, who followed you into danger and were willing to risk their lives to fight beside you.

They were few and far between. But they were worth saving.

And if there was no one else to do it, he might as well try.

'The people,' he said.

Arngeir smiled again. 'And that alone is enough to make you a better man than you seem to think you are.'

Ozan laughed mentally. He wasn't a good man, he knew that. But Arngeir's words pleased him, all the same.

'There is a word in the dragon tongue,' Arngeir said suddenly. '_Vulkun. _The most literal translation would be 'dark light.' Something of a contradiction, perhaps, but then the word is used to describe contradictions – or rather, people who live a contradicting life.'

Ozan looked at him blankly.

'_Vulkun… _the dragons use it as a name for people who walk a dark path, but bring light by doing so. Do you follow?'

After a moment of thought, Ozan shook his head.

Arngeir frowned. 'Dragonborn, you may do things that you, and others, deem cruel, but it is possible for you to do great things for this world by doing them. I do not and never will say that the end always justifies the means, but doing such things does not always make you an evil person. There are very few evil people in this world, and you are not one of them. I would say you are an example of what the dragons call _Vulkun._'

Ozan said nothing, because he knew that Arngeir was wrong. There were all too many evil people on Nirn. But perhaps the Greybeard was right about him. As far as Ozan was concerned, evil was what you did, not what you were. And as far as he knew, he had never yet done anything truly evil.

He _hoped _he had never done anything truly evil.

'If I were you, I would get some rest.' Arngeir closed his eyes again. 'You and your friend have a long journey ahead of you tomorrow.'

Ozan nodded and rose to his feet. His steps made no sound on the stone floor as he left the room, pausing only briefly in the doorway to turn back and say, 'Thank you.'

At first, he headed towards the room where the Greybeards had set out beds for him and Jenassa; then, on impulse, he turned towards the door that led outside, facing the seven thousand steps. A blood-chilling breeze lashed at his face as he stepped out into the snow, and he shivered despite himself. The cold of Skyrim was something it was hard for him to get used to after so long in the warm sands of Hammerfell. This country could hardly be more different to his homeland.

Ozan did not know why it was that he had come to be here, standing on this mountain, looking out over this rugged, untamed country. But what he did know was that there was no use denying it. If this was his destiny, he would not fight it.

'Trouble sleeping?'

He was unsurprised to hear Jenassa's voice. He nodded.

The Dunmer woman approached, the snow crunching beneath her feet, until she stood beside him. 'Hmm. Me too. I think we're a little too high up here for me to be comfortable.'

Ozan nodded again, but he knew that the altitude, disturbing though it was, had nothing to do with his restlessness.

'And there's a lot for us to think about, I suppose. How do you feel about this, now that you've spoken to the Greybeards?'

Ozan sighed. 'Things are clearer now.'

'And will you go looking for that horn for them?'

He dipped his head. 'Will you come?'

'Of course. I'll fight beside you for as long as you need me.'

That was some comfort, but the empty feeling inside him remained. He wondered if he should break the habit of a lifetime and attempt to put what he was feeling into words, and eventually, he decided to do so.

'I don't know what's going to happen,' he said.

Jenassa gave him a long, searching look. 'Well, the only way to find out is to let everything come, and see how it unfolds.'

She was right, of course.

He turned his gaze upwards, staring at the stars. The same stars, he knew, were shining over Hammerfell, over Kematu and the Alik'r as they took Iman back to face justice, over Meerah's grave on the shores of the Abacean Sea. He, like Meerah, and like all mortals, would live and die and move on to whatever awaited him, and those stars would shine on. His life mattered little, when all was said and done.

Those stars were surrounded by darkness. But they brought light. Though his mouth did not move, Ozan smiled in his mind.

He did not know what future lay in wait for him. But if he truly could be what the dragons called _vulkun, _then Ozan was ready to face it.


End file.
